


Illogically Named Cats and If/Then Statements

by Geritashipper123



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Cats, Fluff, Insecurity, Lots of Cats, M/M, Minor Character Death, Old Married Spirk Challenge, Reunions, adorable old men, greif, happy endings, old married spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8625643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geritashipper123/pseuds/Geritashipper123
Summary: "Three days later, Spock woke to prepare breakfast, like always. Jim had continued to insist that he had gained excess weight lately.That morning, as Jim walked into the kitchen, Spock raised his head and said 'if you are too fat, then I am too skinny.'Jim blinked, still half asleep 'uh. Good morning to you too?' "Or, Jim thinks he's less than perfect and Spock will tear the universe apart trying to prove him wrong.A story of Embracing Old Age and all that comes with it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> YOOOOOOO
> 
> Okay I just wanted them with cats. This was gonna be cute but ended up being kinda angsty but still fairly cute!
> 
> Dedicated to TFALokiwriter. You got me through this one speedy.

It begins one day, in their _bedroom_ of all places.  

Spock is lying languidly on their bed. He's awake, it's the middle of the day. He feels contentment radiating through him. He has the day off, and the house is clean and the bed is warm despite the chilly January outside. Jim will be home soon, and Spock is more than warmed by the prospect of the date they were going on tonight- to the _opera_ of all things. Truly, Jim knew how to make him feel loved. Those tickets surely could not have been cheap.

Pulled from his thoughts by a soft meow, he hums without lifting his head, raising his hand and feeling the soft fur slide under his fingers.

“Edith.” He greeted, gazing at the cat- a soft gray and white tabby with blue eyes that couldn't see.

 _She's the same color as New York was!_ Jim had crowed when he insisted on naming her after Miss Keeler. _And she's blind, just like I was to my feelings for you!_

Most illogical, he had argued, to name a cat Edith. They had done it anyway, and ever since Jim had decided that the next cat had to be named Lori. Their other cat, a golden-auburn long hair, had more of a temper. And rarely came out from her hiding spots. And constantly bit Jim.

 _Lori_. Spock let out a breath that could be a sigh as he thought about Jim’s insistence on naming their cats such strange things. The next cat (if they would get another), Spock was going to name after an element on the periodic table, just to irk Jim.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard the door to their apartment open and then close again. “Honey, I'm home!” Jim called, laughter in his voice. _Joy/warmth/love/love/love_ flowed across the bond.

“In the bedroom, Jim.” Spock called back, sitting up and letting Edith crawl into his lap. His husband came in, and Spock turned his head to gaze at him.

Jim was in his admiralty uniform, cheeks pink from the cold. He’d removed his hat, coat, scarf, gloves, and boots in the entryway. Grinning, he padded over to Spock.

“Evening my darling.” Jim smiled and extending his hand. Spock nodded, meeting his fingers in a kiss before taking his hand between his own “You are cold.”

“It snowed again.” Jim hummed, letting Spock warm up his hands. “Mm… my face is cold too if you want to do something about that sweetie.”

Spock resisted the urge to roll his eyes, leaning in to kiss Jim on the cheek. “My _t’hy’la_ should never be allowed to have cold cheeks.”

Jim beamed “well now they're all rosy and warm.” He kissed Spock on the head “I've booked reservations for a restaurant for an early dinner before the opera. Let's get dressed, shall we?”

“Typically when we get dressed at the same time we end up… distracted.” Spock responded, arching a brow. “And we will be late if we get distracted.”

“I can keep it in my pants!” Jim insisted

“You will not be _wearing_ pants Jim. And neither will I. That is the problem I am attempting to make you aware of.”

Jim threw his head back and laughed “fine fine! I’ll dress first since it’ll take me longer.” He slipped his hands out from Spock’s grasp, but leaned down to press a chaste, languid kiss to Spock’s mouth before he stepped back.

Stroking Edith with one hand, Spock listened to the sounds of Jim moving in their walk in closet.

“You like me in a suit you know!” he called “I should be worried about you jumping me- not the other way around.”

“Illogical.” Spock replied “I am Vulcan. I can contain myself.”

“I am but a lowly human male, with urges.” He stuck his head out to grin wolfishly at him “and they're all directed at my husband.”

“Jim. _Dress_.”

“I'm dressing, I'm dressing!”

Spock sat quietly, basking in the soft warmth Jim’s presence brought to their home. _Their home_. He never thought he’d truly have one of those when he was a kid.

His warm thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a dark feeling coming across the bond. _Loathing/anger/insecurity/sad/sad/sad-_

“Damn, I am _fat_.”

Brow arching, Spock gently placed Edith on the bed next to him, and then got up and walked silently to the closet.

Jim was standing in front of the full length mirror, his pants half way up his thighs. He had one hand next to his navel, and the other on his hip. He was turned to the side, squinting and clearly trying to see how round he was.

“Jim.” He said softly, making Jim snap his head around.

“Oh. Hey baby.” He said, hands falling to his sides and cheeks turning red. “I was just-”

“ _Jim._ ”

Spock walked over, and Jim turned to face him. “Jim…” leaning in, Spock pressed a soft kiss to his husband’s hairline. His hands settled on the admiral’s hips, and he kissed him on the mouth next. Jim’s hands slid around him, and he stepped closer to continue kissing him.

He pulled away after a moment, projecting as much love as he could across the bond. “Jim. You are beautiful.”

Jim’s cheeks were pink, his eyes wide, and wonder and affection was flowing from him to Spock through their contact and their bond. “I…” he swallowed “what happened to not distracting me?”

“I do not believe there will ever be a time when I can sit idly by and listen to anyone- even you- insult you.” Spock said, raising a brow.

“Keep talking like that and we won't be going anywhere.” Jim said, a hand coming to cup the back of Spock’s head and drag him down for another kiss.

They _did_ end up leaving for their dinner… eventually. As they did though, Spock continued reminding Jim he was beautiful. Jim kept laughing and shaking his head.

Spock sighed. Clearly, this would take a while. Very well then, he was a patient man.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Spock woke to prepare breakfast, like always. Jim had continued to insist that he had gained excess weight lately. But Spock had a plan, an idea- a hypothesis.

That morning, as Jim walked into the kitchen, Spock raised his head and said “if you are too fat, then I am too skinny.”

Jim blinked, still half asleep “uh. Good morning to you too?”

Spock held out a cup of coffee for him, raising a brow. Jim took it, downed it, and then rubbed at one of his eyes “what were you saying?”

“You have spent the past 3 days overly concerned about your weight. I am informing you of my hypothesis. If you are too fat, then I am too skinny.” Spock repeated.

Jim blinked “um. No. You're perfect.”

“Then so are you.” Spock said, turning back to the breakfast he was making “I already knew that however.”

“Oh did you?” Jim said, coming over and wrapping his arms around Spock’s waist.

Spock raised a brow “yes. You are my t’hy’la. You could grow a third eye and turn loose all your hair and turn purple and I would consider you perfect, Jim. And I would ensure you knew it.” He turned his head to look at him “and then I would immediately attempt to figure out why all those changes had happened and attempted to return you to your previous state as humans are not meant to have a third eye or purple skin."

Jim laughed, nuzzling his nose into the side of Spock’s neck. He kissed the spot just below his ear. “Mm. You're cute. But I _am_ larger than I used to be. I don't fit in my clothes anymore.”

“I do not _care_.”

“Your not gonna let this go are you?”

“Will you admit that you are not an inappropriate weight?”

“Stubborn.”

“Indeed.”

 

* * *

 

And thus, it began. 

Every time Jim would comment on his weight, or what he was eating, Spock would say nothing. And then, a few minutes later he would take an extra helping, commenting on how he had lost another few pounds.

When Jim went out shopping because he needed clothes a size larger, Spock went along, claiming he needed clothes a size smaller.

Each time Spock would make a comment, Jim would assure him he was fine, in hurried, panicked reassurances.

Jim would realize what Spock was trying to do soon, the Vulcan was sure.

 

* * *

 

“- no seriously, his shoes literally went out the window!”

Spock barely managed to fight his smile as Jim recounted a story from his academy days. The evening had been more than pleasant, with wine and steak for Jim and a wonderful salad for Spock and _decadent_ chocolate cake for dessert. The evening had been spectacular and now Jim was laughing as he reminisced about the “good old days.” As he liked to call them.

“ _Man_ that was a long time ago- I was 23.” Jim hummed, fiddling with the wine glass in his hand “now look at me, old and fat….” he trailed off, and if it wasn't illogical, Spock would say the room got colder as he said that.

He almost sighed, taking his own wine glass and taking a long sip. Usually, when they had wine, he would drink barely any. Tonight, the atmosphere had been warm and Spock hadn't minded the flavor. The chocolate cake had enough sugar to give him a pleasant buzz, and the taste of the wine made him feel almost human. “Perhaps I should eat another slice of cake.” Spock mused.

Jim tilted his head “you can if you want. Any particular reason.?”

“Perhaps it will help me gain a few pounds.” Spock said. When Jim opened his mouth to protest, Spock raised a brow. “In addition, if you insist on degrading yourself by calling yourself old and fat when you are neither, I believe I wish to have a… pleasant buzz, as you might say.”

“You _hate_ being intoxicated.” Jim’s voice was accusing, almost ludicrous.

Spock did sigh this time “Jim, I do not hate anything. I am Vulcan. I do however, fail to see the logic in calling oneself fat when you are not.”

Jim blinked “I-”

He was interrupted by a yowl, and Spock straightened, turning his head.

Lori was collapsed in a heap on the floor, yowling and squirming.

Spock’s eyes widened, and he rushed over to her side. “... Jim I believe she needs a vet.” He said, tone serious now.

“Yeah- yeah.” Jim quickly went to go and grab his communicator. Lori’s breathing was labored, and Spock quietly brushed a hand through her fur.

Jim came over quickly with their coats and his communicator. Spock stood to put his coat on before scooping up the auburn cat.

He heard a soft mew, and saw Edith, by his feet.

If he did not know better, he would say she looked concerned.

“Come on-” without even having to ask, Jim scooped up Edith as well. “Let's go.”

 

* * *

 

The vet was 20 minutes away from their apartment, and Lori yowled the whole time. Edith sat next to her, not touching but mewing softly. They both were in Spock’s lap, while Jim drove.

The emergency vet was able to see them relatively quickly, and soon Lori was on a table and Edith was safely in Jim’s lap, Spock’s head on his husband's shoulder.

The doctor came in, greeting Jim and Spock. She looked at the cat, running her fingers over her stomach. “I’m gonna take her back for some scans.” She said after a moment, picking up Lori.

She walked out, and Spock ran a hand through Edith’s fur again. Jim turned his head to kiss the top of his head. “So much for a peaceful night at home after a busy week huh?”

Spock made a little noise of agreement, then tangled his hand with Jim’s.

“Tired sweetheart?” He said softly.

Spock nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. He has what likely approximates to the Vulcan version of a hangover- he recovers from chocolate or sugar-induced intoxication quickly, but only a little will intoxicate him quite severely and make him tired and sickly.

“Take a nap, _k’diwa._ ” Jim muttered “I’ll wake you up when we know something.”

Spock made a noise that likely sounded like agreement, already slipping off against Jim’s warm shoulder.

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Jim did wake him up a few hours later. 

The tumors, the doctor explained, were in Lori’s lungs. There were things they could do to treat them, but they would be… weakening. Lori would likely not walk as easily, and be in a good amount of pain

“In the end,” she finished “it would just be prolonging the inevitable.”

The decision to put her down is a logical one, logically and easily made.

Spock does not cry. Crying over death is illogical. The nurse glares at him from across the room when he does not cry, calmly informing the doctor of their decision.

Jim squeezes his hand, and cries enough for both of them, holding Edith securely with his other arm.

 

* * *

 

He’s quiet on the ride home, lost in thought really.

Cats do not have the lifespan of humans, and they are easier to kill.

However…

A needle. A single push of a plunger and she was gone. It had been painless. So quick. So easy.

And of course, all his musings on mortality led him back to Jim.

Of course he would outlive Jim. That was how Vulcans were. His father would outlive his mother as well. Sarek had warned him of this when he had bonded to Jim.

He was going to lose the love of his life someday. He’d married him knowing that.

But for the first time, he realized how fast it could happen. It could be any moment. He could fall down the stairs of their apartment complex and meet his end tomorrow. The very thought made his stomach turn as if Doctor McCoy had just given him a hypo.

What _would_ he do when James died? They’d talked about it before, and Spock _had_ promised to keep living- but the idea of living without his husband made his heart clench painfully in his side. It wasn't even the living part- taking care of himself was one thing. But the idea of going through pon farr, of letting someone else see that side of himself, of being with someone- _inside_ of someone who was not his Jim…

He shuddered, and a warm hand came to rest on his knee.

“Your thinking quite loudly.” Jim said, giving his leg a soft squeeze. Spock stiffened ever so slightly, then sighed.

“I apologize.” Spock said “I understand that you do not enjoy talking about… that.”

“It's something we should talk about more.” Jim said “even if we hate it. Unless some freak accident occurs, It’s going to happen. We should… have a plan, or something. I’d feel more peace knowing for a fact that there was something in place to help you when I… can't.”

Spock didn't respond, wrapping his fingers around Jim’s wrist to pull his hand away from his leg and bring the palm of it up to his lips.

Jim gave him a smile, humming softly. “Not tonight.” He agreed to Spock’s unspoken thought. “Tonight… well, we have plates to clean up that we left out. Then we should probably sleep.”

“Probably.” Spock agreed.

They ended up not going to sleep right away, but it was a minor detail.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks later and Spock was sitting quietly in his home, alone again. Jim was working late, and Spock had decided to catch up on some reading.

His stomach grumbled, and he sighed. Jim had… well, he hadn't been nice to himself in these past few weeks. Suddenly his teasing about his weight had turned scornful. Spock had stopped commenting on his own weight, lest he upset his husband more. Work was annoying Jim, and the death of Lori was only making matters worse.

He was worried about him. His sweet Jim- it broke Spock’s metaphorical heart to see him so sad.

So lost in thought was he that he didn't hear the object of his thoughts (Jim was the subject of his thoughts 87.9563% of the time after all) return home. He didn't even realize his bond mate was in the flat until a warm hand came to rest over his eyes.

“Guess who?” He muttered, pressing a kiss to the point of his right ear.

“James.” Spock stated, raising a brow that Jim couldn’t see from his place behind the couch but the hand over his eyes could feel.

“Evening my love.” Jim hummed, kissing the side of his head again. “Your thinking quite loudly again. About me?”

Spock made a little noise, half apologetic and half in admittance that the thoughts had indeed been about Jim. Jim kissed the back of his head. “I have a surprise for you.” Jim said, and Spock could hear his grin. “Keep your eyes closed for me, no peeking!”

“Jim-”

“Just do it!”

He removed his hand, but Spock kept his eyes closed. Nothing happened, and then there was a meow- softer than Edith’s, different sounding. A warm, soft weight was placed in his lap and Spock’s eyes opened.

A very fat tabby cat sat in his lap. Their fur was black with grey patches on its nose, ears, feet, tail, chest, and a large patch on their back. It had big green eyes, and was really quite adorable.

“I present to you, Tungsten!” Jim said, beaming at Spock.

Spock stared at the cat, running a hand through the fur. It- _he_ purred, nuzzling his hand.

“Tungsten?” Spock said “Periodic element number 74, a grayish-white lustrous transition metal with a W as it’s symbol.” Jim recited, grinning “He’s a periodic element cat, 'cause you said you would name our next cat after a periodic element.”

“He is ours?” Spock asked hopefully, as Tungsten rolled over in Spock’s lap.

“My secretary walked in with him, said she was gonna take him to the shelter and asked if I could watch him for a few minutes while she checked her emails and attended to some business,” Jim said, smiling at him. “By the time came back he’d stolen my heart. He’s a cuddly little ball of love. So I took him to the shelter to formally adopt him and even popped by the vet- remarkably healthy for a stray. Apparently, he was at the shelter but escaped a few weeks ago.”

“He is adorable.” Spock said, scratching him behind the ears and making him purr. “He’s neutered too.” Jim said “I checked. And I introduced him to Edith, their real friendly.”

Jim sat next to him “And hey, he’s fat and gray  just like me.”

The warm atmosphere dissipated, and a jolt of sadness went through Spock before he could catch it. Tungsten hopped off his lap, sensing the change of mood.

“I felt that.” Jim said softly “What is it?”

“Jim.” Spock turns “Jim I have avoided talking about it in recent weeks, but I find I can hold my silence no longer.”

Jim opened his mouth, but Spock continued talking.

“Why do you continue to insult yourself so? I understand that humans find gaining excess weight and graying hair distasteful, but I have attempted to let you know how beautiful you are at every possible moment. I cherish you and love you every moment. I understand that I alone cannot fix your insecurities, but despite the fact that I have continually loved you your self-deprecations have only increased.” Spock locked eyes with him

“If there is something I am doing wrong I request that you tell me now. It _hurts_ , Jim. It physically pains me to see you feel so negatively towards yourself, especially when you are and always shall be absolutely perfect in my eyes.” He faltered, looking down “I understand that I am not able to please you in the ways I used to, and that I am boney and cannot possibly be as appealing or comfortable for you to be with as I used to be when we were younger. I understand I do not have as strict a control and that my emotions seep across the bond more. I understand I am more human than I was and perhaps you do not enjoy that. But I will do anything you wish if only you would see that-”

And then, Jim grabbed him by the chin and kissed him in the human way.

It was not a chaste kiss- it was the kind of frenzied, impassioned kiss they would have done in a turbolift before a difficult mission, or after a separation- it was a plea filled with tongue and teeth.

When they finally did pull apart, Jim was crying. Spock’s eyes widened, guilt shooting through him at the sight. He had made his bondmate _cry_ which had certainly not been his intention-

“Spock.” Jim whispered “Oh, oh Spock- Come here. No, don't talk. It’s like chess, my turn now. Just come here.”

Jim pulled him close until Spock was enveloped in a very warm hug, his ear resting against Jim’s shoulder as Jim buried his face in Spock’s hair.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry.” Jim said. “I didn’t realize I was getting to you so much. I’m sorry.”

Spock opened his mouth to protest, to say that Jim hadn’t done anything wrong, but Jim shushed him.

“Okay, first of all- yeah. I’ve gotten fatter and grayer and I don’t particularly enjoy it. But only because… Spock, I was young for so _long._ ” Jim said, rubbing his hand down Spock’s arm “Maybe it’s cause I’m shorter than average, or maybe it’s because I was so eager but it was always 'young cadet kirk' or 'young Mr. kirk' and then, obviously, it became 'the youngest captain in Starfleet' and then 'the youngest admiral in Starfleet.' And I…” He trailed off

“I think that recently it’s sort of hit me- I’m not young anymore. I’m old. And I’m at least 23 pounds heavier than I was at thirty-three.” He glanced down at Spock “it’s just a bit of a shock you know? I’m old. I survived-” he glanced out the window now- the stars had come out “I survived _that._ I survived over a decade in space when so many of the people I know didn’t and that's… it’s amazing to me.” He gave Spock a squeeze

“Could I lose a few pounds? Yeah. Do I enjoy going gray? No. But I’m coming to terms with it, slowly but surely.” He sighed out a huff of air “and work hasn't exactly been helping. I’m overdue for a vacation.” He shifted Spock so they could look into one another’s eyes. “And honey, you’ve helped me more than you know.”

Spock opened his mouth, but Jim put a finger to his lips. “You’ve helped me more than you realize. So many times over these past few weeks I’ve come home in a lousy mood, sore and cold. And I’ll think- ‘look at you. Pathetic. You’re cold? You’ve been to colder planets! You’re sore? It’s not like you’ve been stabbed! You're being old and fat and weak again’. And I’ll be feeling awful.” Jim paused, smiling at him with his eyes gleaming

“And then I’ll walk in the door. I’ll warm up immediately due to the heat, I’ll see all our memories- the medals, the photos, the artifacts- and I’ll take off my coat and go into our bedroom and I’ll lay down and then _you’ll_ be there. You’ll come and give me a kiss, welcome me home, make me a meal and remind me how good your cooking is, you’ll give me a massage, you’ll just _be there_ looking all gorgeous and content here with our apartment and the cats- You _radiate_ joy sometimes Spock. Did you know that? You’re so happy here- I can tell. And I look at you and I think- ‘this man is mine. This Vulcan loves me no matter what I look like or what I do. I make a _Vulcan_ happy- of all the achievements that's my favorite. I have all these medals because I spent my life doing something amazing. And now I’m spending my life with someone amazing and beautiful and spectacular-’ “ He kissed Spock on the nose “And I’m happy.”

“I am happy as well.” Spock whispered, overwhelmed by the pure adoration Jim was broadcasting. “Our life together is a cherished gift- one that has been taken from us several times-” he faltered, bowing his head. Jim kissed the top of his head, squeezing him a little tighter.

“I know you're happy.” Jim said “But you’ve been having some insecurities too. Spock, you’re so beautiful. I’m sorry if I've been too busy dealing with my own shit to remind you of that the way you remind me recently, but you are.” Jim squeezed him again “You’re beautiful. And human, Vulcan, Klingon or Tellarite I would think you're beautiful either way.”

“You hate Klingons. If I were a Klingon you likely would attempt to kill me.”

“Well yeah, but I would think you’re beautiful as I did it. And I’d regret it later.”

Spock actually had to suppress a laugh at that, and Jim smiled before kissing him again.

Perhaps one of the biggest surprises about their relationship was how much Spock had come to enjoy the messy passion and eroticism of human kissing. Jim had shown him the advantages, and now he saw that it was a little like math- constant, unchanging, the same wherever you go, and easy to multiply. Whenever he kissed Jim, one kiss would always turn to two, then four, then six…

That night, as they lay lost in the throes of passion, Spock melded them and swam in the love he found in their bond.

 _“If you are too fat, then I am too skinny.”_ Spock had said all those weeks ago. Now, he found the inverse to also have equal truth value _if you are not too fat, then I am not too skinny._

_If I am perfect to you, then You are perfect to me._

_If you will be mine, Then I will be yours_

 

* * *

 

8 weeks later, Spock once again sat alone in their-

In _his_ apartment.

Doctor McCoy had called again today- not surprising, all things considered. Uhura and Scotty had also sent their regards and promised to return for the funeral.

 _The funeral._ As his husband, It fell to Spock to plan it. His mind began pulling the objective data of funerals to see what he would need- a date, a time, a photo, a tombstone to memorialize him- he had no need for a casket. There was no body to bury in it anyhow.

There was a knock, and robotically Spock got up, making his way over. Probably another well-meaning person with flowers, perhaps a colleague of Spock’s? Saavik had been off world, he hadn’t heard from her yet.

He opened the door. Two Starfleet officers stood there in full dress uniform.

“Captain Spock Kirk?” One of them asked. Spock nodded, his stomach twisting as he realized what this was.

The officers both held up a passable ta’al. “Starfleet greatly regrets the loss of your spouse- Admiral Kirk was a great man.” The first said “Of course, out of courtesy, Starfleet will cover all funeral costs. Our lawyers will be in contact with you in a few days to discuss his will, testament, pension, and for a man of Admiral Kirk’s nobility, honoring his legacy.” The second continued.

A triangular case with a glass lid and a folded Federation Flag was held out, and he took it with robotic hands, staring down at the white stars and laurels on the blue fabric.

“We are sorry for your loss, captain. If there is anything Starfleet can do, please do not hesitate.” The second said.

_I wish for my husband, bondmate, and half of my heart and soul returned to me from the supposedly safe publicity stunt you sent him on without me on the Enterprise-B if you would not mind_

Spock did not say the words, merely thanked them and saluted them before closing the door and going back to the living room.

His internal clock told him he stood there, staring at the flag for 12.78 minutes. He was frozen, staring. His eyesight had not failed him- he could make out every thread of the fabric. It was not even expensive. It was the same flag one could buy for 20 credits at any local store simply folded formally and put in a case.

What was he supposed to do with this? Suddenly, he found himself raging at Starfleet. Financial compensation? A flag? Condolences? That was what they offered him in exchange for the love of his life? They could not even give him a body to bury? Oh yes, they would buy the tombstone- the cold unfeeling block that was supposed to represent everything he is- _was._

When Lori had died, Spock had not cried. Crying over death was illogical.

Spock’s old knees gave out, and tears hit the glass of the case.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to think of Jim in the past tense? How was he supposed to survive without Jim’s kisses, his warm hugs? Who was he supposed to cook for and go to the opera or dinner with? Who was supposed to remind him that he was beautiful? Who was going to care about Spock? No one did- not like Jim had. Was this to be his life now? Was he to spend every day feeling this pain? It surely would not fade. Was he supposed to live in this apartment alone? With, what, this horrible flag for company? As some representation of _Jim?_

Suddenly, his anger turned to pure fury. He flung the flag at the wall- a hole appeared in the drywall and when it hit the ground the glass shattered.

Spock’s controls shattered at the same moment.

He wrapped his arms around himself, curling in as tight as he could. He was sobbing, crying harder than he ever had. He opened his mouth and a sound of pure _agony_ hit his ears- one that came from his own mouth. This agony was awful- the broken bond was bad enough, but the _grief_ would surely swallow him whole.

There was a soft meow, and Spock saw Tungsten had come to sit next to his leg, Edith right behind him.

He pulled them both into his lap, clinging to them like his life buoys.

They were not the one thing that could save him from drowning though

 

* * *

 

This new universe was so strange, and perhaps the strangest part was the counterparts of him and Jim- so much more broken than they were and in Spock’s opinion much stronger.

Spock felt ridiculously grateful for them right now. Even if it was a facsimile, seeing his husband once more was an incredible gift.

“For once, I can’t hear you.” Said the Jim look-alike, tilting his head “You're gonna have to fill me in on what you're thinking about Mr. Spock.”

“I am thinking of the gift it is to see James once more.” Spock- Selek, as he was called now- said. His brain worked fast, opening up every memory of _Jim_ that he had tramped down.

“And I am thinking of my apartment, sitting in the other universe collecting dust.” he continued. “It was such a nice apartment…” Said the look-alike, humming. “Must’ve been pretty lonely.”

“There is a hole in the wall.” Spock said “I threw the ceremonial flag I was given in place of Jim’s body at the wall.”

“What else are you thinking of?” asked the look-alike, eyes gleaming.

“... Illogical names for cats.” Spock said. It occurred to him how strange this conversation must seem to the younger Jim and Spock, who were standing behind the transporter console on this shinier _Enterprise_.

The look alike hummed “I can think of a few. Lori, Edith,” He grinned “Tungsten.”

Spock swallowed, pushing his hope down. “And I am thinking of If/Then statements.”

The lookalike smiled “Mm. I’ve got a few of those. If you’ll be mine, I’ll be yours.” Spock’s heart jumped in his side. He could not stop the rush of hope.

The look- the _man_  smiled at him “And If I am too fat, then You are too skinny. But I’m not too fat and therefore you are not too skinny.”

“James.” Spock’s voice was choked, as tears welled in his eyes.

“Hi beautiful.” Jim said “Honey, I’m home.”

They stared at one another, able to have a whole conversation with their eyes.

_If you have my heart, Then I have yours._

_If we exist, Then we will find one another_

**Author's Note:**

> Does anyone watch scandal? You know how when James dies Cyrus breaks down at the podium? That was what I pictured with spock and the flag. That god awful pain... the shouting sobs... and feeling so out of control.
> 
> anyway!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Come visit me on tumblr www.flamingbluepanda.tumblr.com
> 
> See ya!


End file.
